A View from the Wastes
by MelasZepheos
Summary: How do others see the Lone Wanderer? How do they feel about the way she changes? The Wasteland hardens people, and you can lose something important.
1. Chapter 1: Lucas Simms

**AN:-** To all waiting for the next installment of Out of the Dark, it is coming. I finished my university exams on Tuesday, so I finally have a couple of weeks to do nothing but write. This is going to be a fairly short collection of ideas I had while playing Fallout 3. Basically the characters that the Wanderer interacts with, through their eyes. My Lone Wanderer is a girl named Kalis. The extracts are in no particular order, because I don't tend to play the game the same way twice. Maybe once I'm done I'll go back in and reorder them into something more easily followed.

**Chapter One: Lucas Simms**

Lucas Simms heard the gates to Megaton cycling open and walked over to see who had come through. There were several residents already there, staring at someone in a blue jumpsuit. _Hang on a second,_ The suit had yellow trim, and there was some sort of device attached to the girls' wrist. _Well I'll be..._

"Move back people," He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the gawkers, more preoccupied with the young woman, "Nothing to see here."

The people moved away, leaving him facing the newcomer, who was looking around at the city with wide terrified eyes. In her right hand she held a 10mm pistol, and the hand was shaking so much he was worried she was going to fire it accidentally.

"I'll be damned," He kept his voice light, hoping she'd stay calm. "You're from that Vault. Vault 101." He chuckled, keeping a close eye on her expression as she met his gaze. It was a struggle to ignore the pistol, but she didn't look like the sort to just open fire. "I ain't seen one of those jumpsuits in a long time."

She started to breathe deeper, and she started blinking again. Still smiling, he gestured to the gun, "You ain't planning on using that thing are you?"

She looked down as if she had forgotten she was holding it, and her arm shook again, hard enough that the pistol slipped from her grip. He caught it before it hit the floor and unloaded it, noting that it had been fired recently, and when he looked closer he saw that she had blood on her hands and jumpsuit. "You running from someone?"

"Yes, no, I don't..." She took a deep breath, "I lost my daddy and I don't know where he went and I've never been outside the Vault and they told us no one ever leaves and now I have left and I don't know what to do."

"Well, I'll help where I can, as long as you can tell me you ain't planning on killing anyone here. I'm Lucas Simms, Sheriff, Mayor, de facto leader of this little slice of heaven. Now you can have a place to stay over at the open house, but besides that I can't offer much. Too many people come through here for me to keep track of them all," _Should I send her to Moriarty? No, he'd tear her apart as soon as look at her._

"What about my daddy?"

"You could always try asking around town, Moira over at Craterside Supply often pays more attention to new folk than I do, and if you're planning on living here long term you'll need the food she can sell you." He frowned, "You do have caps don't you?"

"Caps?"

He dug into his pocket and showed her a handful, "Currency out here in the Wasteland. You gotta have caps."

"I don't have any..."

"Well there's always odd jobs around town, people looking for some help." He sighed, most of this wasn't registering, he could see that. He was used to kids looking just as lean and hard as the adults. Harden had been thin as a rake from the day he was born, but this kid had seen good eating. She still had a little puppy fat round her cheeks for God's sake!

"You go get some sleep, and I'll see what I can do for you in the morning." He handed her back the gun, "I don't reckon you have much to steal, but some folks aren't as nice as I am, so you keep this close. You do know how to use it don't you?"

She nodded, fresh tears appearing in her eyes. He had thought as much, the gun had been used on someone she knew. "Sleep," He instructed her, "Everything seems better once you've had a little shuteye." As she walked off, still dazed, he shook his head and sighed. If she was lucky, she'd be dead within the week, before the stress of the hard living set in, or the thirst from drinking nothing but irradiated water.

Maybe it would be better that way, but there was something about her, under the grime and the fear. Whatever had gotten her out of that vault had to have been strong, and there was a glimpse of it, buried behind her eyes. If she survived, he had a feeling she was going to raise some hell around Megaton.

**AN:-** I won't be following the in-game dialogue. Like, at all. Also, these will be mostly very short, under a thousand words to maybe fifteen hundred at most. This will hopefully allow me to get back into the habit of writing without wasting words.

I hope you enjoyed Chapter One anyway, I have three written right now, and I'm planning to do no more than ten. Also, there will not be a perspective from Kalis' father.


	2. Chapter 2: Eulogy Jones

**AN:-** Chapter two of 'View.' Again, I'd remind you that these are not necessarily in chronological order, yet.

**Chapter Two: Eulogy Jones**

She smiled nice enough, and even with the scars she'd be a hot piece of ass. All he had to do was get a mesmetron anywhere near her. "My dear it is so good to meet someone of your status," He held up a glass, "Are you much of a drinker?"

She only frowned at the glass, before returning her eyes to him. He gulped at how they looked. They weren't survivor's eyes, and they certainly weren't slaver's eyes. He'd seen eyes like that before, on law men and Regulators. The duster was a familiar design, but he'd assumed she'd stolen it. Why had his men let through a genuine do-gooder? He signalled his girls and broadened his smile, "So are you here to do business? That's all we have, business or pleasure, and sometimes the two go hand in hand."

"I'm here for the children."

"Ah yes, good strong backs, weedy arms but that would soon change."

"You don't seem to understand me Mr Jones." Somehow, the eyes had hardened, and the fire in them made his stomach churn. He had always thought no one would be so stupid as to take on Paradise Falls, and doing it alone was suicide, but there was every chance she would draw down on him, and knowing she wouldn't leave the town alive wouldn't be much consolation. The gun at her side looked like it would shoot through plate metal.

"All I'm asking is five hundred a head, after that I don't care what you do with the little bastards, but I have a business to run here."

"I've seen your business Mr Jones, and it's a dirty one. Now I've been hearing stories of Paradise Falls all around the Wastes, but now I see it I realise I haven't even begun to understand the sort of depravity your kind can sink to."

He clicked his fingers and Clover and Crimson drew their guns. The Wanderer before him slid one foot back, and her hand hovered over the butt of the magnum, "I will not stand by and be insulted in my own home missy. Now I gave you a way out of this, and I will still accept your money, but if you draw down the whole city will be on you like flies on shit."

"I am going to level Paradise Falls Mr Jones. I am going to clear up your operation, and from here on out when I see a slaver I will shoot to kill. Normally at this point I would offer you a chance to surrender, but if violence is all your kind understands then violence is all you shall receive. Now unless you beg like a dog on the floor Mr Jones, I am going to kill you and every one of your thieving, evil band."

"I've had enough," He took his eyes off her for one crucial second, "Kill..."

It felt kind of like being punched.

One second he was standing, issuing orders to his girls, and the next second he crumpled in two as a jackhammer hit him in the stomach. The roar of gunfire seemed very far away, and his legs weren't working so well. He pitched backward and hit the edge of his bed, sliding off it at an angle to sprawl on the floor. There was a rank smell coming from somewhere just beneath his nose and he realised it was him.

_Bitch shot me._

Something hit the floor next to him and he managed to turn his head to see Crimson's head, half of it a pulped mess of bone and blood, the remaining eye glaring at him accusingly. With a mighty effort he rolled himself and saw Clover blasting away with her shotgun. The Lone Wanderer seemed untouchable, whirling round to avoid the shot before planting her feet firmly and raising the gigantic magnum again.

Clover folded in half at the waist, then snapped abruptly back, her neck blasted straight through. To Eulogy it seemed she was falling in slow motion as she came crashing down next to him, her head clinging to the body by only a thread of skin and muscle. A shadow fell over his face and he looked up to see the Wanderer, standing over him like the Angel of Death with a sawed off shotgun lightly resting against his nose.

"Doesn't seem like anyone heard the shots Mr Jones." She growled, "But I think the people deserve to know that the law has come back to Paradise." She reached down with her other hand and grabbed his collar, hauling him with strength he wouldn't have believed she had to his door and kicking it open to let the sunlight flood in.

His vision was going dark, and it wasn't just the sudden change. His hearing felt wrong, like everything was being filtered through a long tunnel. He heard the echoes of the wanderer as she cried out, "Eulogy Jones is dead. All those who want to live, clear out of here and give up this life. All others, let's see you fill your hands."

Shouts from his men, the roar of gunshots and a dull thump as she dropped him in the dirt and ran for cover. As his vision tunnelled, allowing him only gray glimpses of the fight, he saw man after man drop, their bodies ruined by the cascade of fire. He wouldn't have believed it possible. He still didn't, as he bled out in the heat. One woman had marched into his private heaven, and had made it a hell.

_Shoulda listened._ His thoughts were sluggish, but there was one he understood, locked now in total blackness, the sound gone. _Shoulda given her the kids and run._

Too late for second thoughts, too late for misgivings. Eulogy Jones died alone in a pool of blood and shit and sand on the front steps of his own home.

**AN:-** This one was a bit more of an esoteric choice for a viewpoint. But the theme that emerged seemed to be 'leaders' rather than 'random folk.' And also, the idea of the Lone Wanderer giving the speech about how she's going to burn down Paradise Falls while facing down Eulogy. I know that Crimson doesn't use a gun, but a shootout seemed cooler with two not one. Also, it always seems funny to me that you can simply march into Paradise Falls with enough firepower to orbit Anrold Schwarzenegger, and just kill everyone. The Wanderer is badass. Also, doing it with a Blackhawk Magnum, while wearing a Regulator Duster and Shady Hat? There is no cooler feeling for a goodguy.


	3. Chapter 3: Reilly's Rangers

**AN:-** Writing Fallout 3 fanfic while listening to Les Miserables 10th Anniversary in Concert? Epic. Now for my favourite group in the whole wide Wasteland. If I could, I would write nothing but Lone Wanderer/Reilly's Rangers fics. Sadly, I don't have that many ideas. Anyone want to use my Lone Wanderer, write them for me? Just so long as you ask that'd be great.

**Chapter Three: Reilly's Rangers**

Life hadn't exactly been sunshine and roses for the Rangers since their rescue at Our Lady of Hope. Reilly leaned back from her desk and wasn't at all surprised to see she had managed to work clean through the night again. The Wanderer out there had certainly made surveying the Wastes easier, but it wouldn't mean anything if they couldn't live there. Her Rangers were all pulling double shifts, and they didn't even seem to be making a dent in Seward Square, let alone the rest of the city.

No one knew where the supermutants even came from, and that was the root of the problem. If anyone wanted to eliminate the Rangers, or the Regulators, or even the slavers, all they had to do was find the headquarters of the group and kill everyone inside. Anyone left outside the base would either have to find a new gang or give up their quest. Dealing with border patrols did no one any good but that was what she and her Rangers found themselves doing increasingly often.

She hadn't heard anything from their friend on the outside in a while now. Not that she was concerned exactly, the woman had more than proven she was able to handle herself, but the wastes were a dangerous place for anyone, and to travel them alone was not an experience Reilly was keen on. Most everyone else she knew found other people, the traders, the settlers, groups who came together to try and lighten the load. But the Wanderer did it on her own, and yet still somehow managed to come up golden every time.

Reilly stood and surveyed her mug of caf. It had been emptied a while back, and she couldn't quite remember what she had been doing at the time. Sighing, she headed through to the mess room, where her troops were just beginning to wake. None of them were surprised to see her still awake, her irregular habits were well known to them.

"Where to today boss?" Brick asked, shrugging herself into her armour.

"Still working on that. I'm hoping for a visit from our friend out there before I have to decide."

"Well she doesn't exactly keep to deadlines," Donovan was up, rubbing his neck, still stiff after a supermutant had thrown him into a bank of lockers during a raid. "We might not see her for months."

As if on cue, the door to the headquarters cranked open, "Oh ye of little faith," Reilly said, abandoning her cup and going to welcome her friend. "It's been too long," She said as she started up the stairs. She looked up to see the Wanderer leaning heavily against the wall.

"Help," She managed weakly before falling forwards, clattering down the stairs and crashing into Reilly, who managed to steady her before they both went to the bottom.

"Butcher!" She yelled, "Man down."

The medic crashed through, kit in hand, and helped her bring the Wanderer down to the ground floor, "This is not looking good." Reilly had to agree, there were puncture marks all over the armour, as if needles had been driven through it, and blood was soaking her hands. "We have to get the armour off her."

Reilly helped loosen the straps, and as they pulled away the chest plate they saw nothing but blood. "Shit chief," Brick was behind them, "What did she get into?"

"Hopefully nothing we can't fix."

"How did she even make it here?" Donovan asked as they lifted her and carried her through to a bed, "She's bleeding like a stuck pig."

"She's made of stern stuff," Butcher pushed through them, "Now clear some space, I need to work."

"Reilly," The Wanderer croaked, and the Ranger stepped close to her head.

"You should save your strength. Butcher's going to fix you up."

The Wanderer seemed to be smiling, but with a vicious cut down the side of her face it was hard to tell it from a grimace of pain. "You can cross a town off your map."

"What do you mean?" Butcher was cutting through the Wanderer's shirt, and there seemed to be a lot of holes, large and small.

"Paradise Falls, went byebye."

Butcher shoved a tranq-gun into her hand, "Dope her," He went back to removing her clothing. Reilly applied the gun and waited until the girl loosened up.

"Paradise Falls? They did this to you?"

"Nope," The drugs seemed to be taking hold, Reilly accepted a cloth from Brick and wiped most of the blood from her face, revealing a dopey grin. "I took out Paradise Falls, saved the kids and the slaves; Temple of the Union has some new recruits."

"All by yourself?" Donovan asked from the doorway.

"Yepyep. Got stupid on the way back. Ambushed by supermutants." She frowned and tried to look down, but Reilly kept her head in place. "There was a bomb or something. My chest hurts."

"Well you did the right thing coming here." She looked over to Brick and mouthed _bottlecap mine?_ And the weapons expert nodded. "You just lie still and let Butcher do his thing okay?"

The Wanderer nodded, the grin back on her face, "No problemo." Her hand came up and brushed Reilly's face, "Pretty Reilly, nice smile, always nice..." Her eyes rolled back in her head and her breathing became laboured.

"I have to work," Butcher was as close to frantic as he ever looked. "This is very bad."

"I'm staying right here," Reilly told him. _Brave girl. Saved me the job of trekking up to Paradise Falls myself. I hope Butcher can fix you brave girl, because you're a natural, best I've seen._

Who was this girl? Reilly hadn't been hopeful when she told the stranger she met in Underworld her plight, but somehow, she had become a part of the team, essential and trusted. If she didn't make it...

_She'll make it; she's tougher than anyone I've ever seen._ _Tougher than me, maybe I should ask her to lead the Rangers._ Beneath her the girl moaned and tried to shy away from Butcher, muttering something. Reilly leaned in close to hear it.

"No, daddy. Don't go..."

_Who are you?_

**AN:-** Some characterisation and plot! Clearly, my Lone Wanderer enjoys a close relationship with Reilly's Rangers, visiting them often. I'd also think she probably helps them on raids sometimes. Obviously this piece does come after the Paradise Falls incident, and I think probably what would have happened was that after destroying Paradise Falls the LW headed for RR's compound, and somewhere in the DC Mall/Subway area got jumped by supermutants, blasted in the chest with a bottlecap mine, and then dragged herself to the nearest friendly place.

This is an example of me trying to balance the in-game mechanics with the real world applications. There is no fast travel in real life, you have to walk, and sticking a stimpack in your arm or sleeping for a bit will not heal a broken leg or bits of shrapnel in your chest. If it were realistic, crippling injuries would require a doctor, and you'd have to walk everywhere too. As for carrying things, I imagine that Kalis carries some sort of duffel-bag that she stores a change of clothes or two and her guns, food, bottlecaps etc in. So after wearing the Regulator Duster to waste Paradise Falls, she changed into her Ranger armour for the more hazardous Wastelands.

As for the relationships thing, I am not trying to write yet another lesbian fic, but the in-game dialogue for the LW doesn't change whether you're male or female, which means that lines which could be seen as flirting from **or to** Moira, Nova, Amata, Clover etc are exactly the same whether male or female. Thus, the LW is lesbian. I apologise for having no creativity when it comes to these things, but the issue really won't come up much aside from occasional references. Also, Reilly's musings about letting the LW run the Ranger's I think are concurrent with the view of the LW and Reilly's uncertainty. After the quest she expresses concern about her leadership, and the LW is someone who regularly takes on entire towns or military complexes alone, so who better to lead the team of badasses as far as Reilly is concerned?

In terms of the larger world of Fallout, this comes after James' death, but before Vault 87 and the GECK, my thinking being that the LW would want to get out of the Citadel and deal with her grief before immediately aiding the Brotherhood.


End file.
